


Painting Melodies on Broken Tiles

by leavemetothewolves



Series: Kaleidoscope [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Colours, Cute, Fluff, Gen, M/M, best buy incident mention, prescription medicine/suicide/self hate mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavemetothewolves/pseuds/leavemetothewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Pete and Patrick, told in primary colours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Melodies on Broken Tiles

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Thanks for clicking on this piece of trash!
> 
> 2) POV changes a third of the way through bc I was running on caffeine and two hours of sleep (Ahhh the beauty of summer holidays) and I forgot what the fuck I was doing. 
> 
> 3) Enjoy! *jazz hands*

Red.

It's the colour of Patrick's first electric guitar. He names it Roxanne. Kevin likes to joke that it was his first love. 

When he has his first kiss, under the bleachers with a girl named Sally Rowland, it's the colour of the lipstick that clings to his lips as she giggles, before racing after her friends. He sits in the grass while the rain beats down on the football field and wonders why it didn't give him butterflies or electric tingles down his spine like all the novels say it would. 

It's the colour of his eyes, puffy and cried out, when his parents tell him they're getting a divorce. He remembers wondering if it was his fault, if he could have just done better as a kid, then maybe they would've stayed together. He knows now that it wasn't, of course, but it still bothers him nonetheless.

Fast forward to when he accidentally overhears a guy in a bookshop, and it's the colour of the label on his coffee cup as he twirls around, which is soon set aside and forgotten in favour of a lively conversation about chord progressions and musical geniuses. 

It's the colour of his cheeks as he insists to Pete - /Pete fucking Wentz from Arma, holy shit/ - that he can't sing, no really, he's just a drummer, honestly, but okay, he'll try, but don't...laugh, alright? 

When Pete wraps his octopus-like limbs around Patrick's frame, it's the colour of his beat up tennis shoes as he whispers that they're going places into the shell of Patrick's ear. 

Red is the colour of the pen Patrick uses to rearrange the sheets upon sheets of lyrics that pile up in dirty notebooks, adding melodies and harmonies, humming guitar riffs and scratching music notes into the margins. It gets easier as time goes by and as Pete trusts him more, the lyrics start to resemble songs.

Fast forward even more and it's the colour of Patrick's vision as he throws down his guitar (but not too hard, because he is a musician at heart) and grips his hair, because how the /hell/ did anyone ever tolerate Pete fucking Wentz and his shitty fucking bass playing and pretentious attitude long enough to make something that even resembled a song? 

It's the colour of the shirt that Pete clings to as he wriggles into Patrick's bed that night, whispering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," repeatedly into his shoulder. Somewhere in the night Patrick wraps his arm around his waist in something like an apology, and tells him to just go the fuck to sleep. 

The next week, it's the colour of the hair of their new (only) drummer, a vegan with huge, tattooed arms and a sweet disposition who Pete nicknames the Animal. 

When Pete drives haphazardly onto Patrick's curb a month or two later, it's the colour of the secondhand van he has, loaded with their equipment, half a map of Chicago and a plan to take on the world. How could Mrs. StumpwithanH ever say no to that? 

It turns out she can't, so Patrick is catapulted into a schedule of bumpy highways and miniscule gigs in cloudy bars, squeezing between guitar amps in the back of the van and dutifully ignoring the smell of sweaty, disgusting /guy/.

Red is the colour of endings that result in beginnings. 

~

Blue.

When Patrick sits him down and tells him they need a break, it's the colour of his face reflected in the neon lights of the hotel sign. When Pete pats him on the back and assures him that he's fine, it's the colour of Patrick's t shirt under his finger tips. 

When he marries Ashley, it's the colour of her eyeshadow as he stares at her, wondering this feels more like a trap than anything else. She doesn't care that he's an emotional mess, he doesn't care that she lip synced on live TV. She makes Pete smile and occasionally cry. It's love, isn't it?

When Bronx's birthday comes around, it's the colour of the candles on his cake, and as his new friends cheer around him, Pete tries to convince himself that it isn't missing Patrick that's causing the ache in his chest. 

It's the colour of the couch that Pete sleeps on when Ashley's mad at him. It happens a lot these days and he's not quite sure it's going to get better.

When he gets himself tickets to a Soul Punk show, it's the color of the bow tie Patrick's wearing. He's got a grin and a whole new confidence on stage that Petes never seen on him. He's skinnier, too.   
Blue is the colour of the cover on his new album, a new record; a new chapter of Patrick's life that Pete had nothing to do with. 

When Pete downs a bottle of Ativan in the Best Buy parking lot, it's the colour of the rain running down the tinted windshield. It's the colour of his lips as he feels himself falling, as the panic rises and he realizes he doesn't really want to die. 

When he wakes up, surrounded by white, it's the colour of the pair of eyes in front of him, a familiar ocean blue, staring at him from under unfamiliar bleach blonde hair. 

Blue. To Pete, it's the colour of melancholic nostalgia and bad days and even worse nights. It's the colour of one way road signs and dead ends that just keep ending. 

~

Yellow.

When Ashley finally tells Pete it's over, it's the colour of the sundress she has on. She's tall and slim, with gorgeous, tanned skin and a blinding smile. Pete wonders exactly when she stopped looking beautiful and started looking regretful. 

When Pete calls Patrick at 2am and he's sobbing, it's the colour of the prescription bottle he's holding in his left hand. 

It's the colour of Patrick's voice; that gorgeous, golden voice of his, as he sings Pete to sleep like he used to, in the old days. Back when things were easier and they were younger and the world was a little more kind.

When the band meets again for the first time in years, it's the colour of old jokes and new ones. New haircuts and different styles. They've grown up, but they haven't grown apart, at least not in the ways that matter most.

It's the colour of the notebooks Pete hands Patrick, yellowed with coffee stains and tears and god knows what else. Even he doesn't know which lyrics are about Patrick or Ashley, doesn't know if he wants to know. It just feels good to be writing again.

Even when he's so fucking confused because Patrick is, well, Patrick and Petes always been kindasortaalot in love with him, so it's nothing new, but it totally is. Because this Patrick is confident and gorgeous, and he's always been gorgeous, but this Patrick is leather jackets and skinny jeans and collared shirts and Pete doesn't know if he can take it. 

And one night it's a hotel night after a show and Petes a pissy mess, honestly. Patrick isn't taking it though, he never did put up with Petes shit, and suddenly Pete just drags him by his goddamn collar and kisses him. He lets go of him immediately, and starts to stammer out an apology before Patrick is kissing him back. He moans into the kiss, and again as Patrick slots his legs between his thighs. 

~

Fast forward a year and it's the colour of the gold band that Pete slides onto Patrick's finger. He kisses him clumsily, he's smiling too hard for there to be any actual making out happening, but Patrick's smiling just as much as he is. 

And when it's time for the speeches, Kevin will joke about Patrick's first love, Roxanne, as he always does; but he'll also joke about his last love - Pete.

 

Yellow. It's the colour of happiness, and the colour of love.

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a rushed ending bc I was basically hunched over and falling asleep at this point. Did you self combust from all the fluff? If so, please contact my lawyer.
> 
> (I'm not funny please forgive me)
> 
> Anywho, please let me know what you thought, and kudos are hugs and I wuv them.


End file.
